


Princess

by mypassionfortrash



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 80's Roger Taylor, Belt kink, Belts, Dirty Talk, F/M, Humiliation, Leashes, Pegging, Pet Names, Princess / Sir, Restraints, Roger Taylor's mullet, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Sub!Roger, domme!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypassionfortrash/pseuds/mypassionfortrash
Summary: You decide to teach Roger just how versatile belts can be...
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Date night

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER WIP. In three short parts to make me feel productive and to tease the crap outta you guys! Just imagine 80's Roger with a mullet from The Works era. Thanks for reading!

“Ok, ok,” you began, “what items of clothing do you find sexy on women?”

Roger snorted and flashed you a bright smile. “That’s easy. Stockings.” He took a sip of wine, seeming rather pleased with himself. Then his powder blue gaze returned to you. “You?”

You bit your lip, looking at anyone – anything – but Roger. Not out of embarrassment. You just needed to steal a moment imagining him wearing one.

“It’s not that hard, darling,” he prompted.

“Belts.”

“What?”

“Belts.”

Roger paused, screwing up his pretty face. “Why?”

You drained your glass and sighed. “Because, Roger, they’re rather versatile.”

“I don’t get it,” Roger began, leaning forward and dropping his tone, “I don’t think you’re talking about style, are you?” His cheeks seemed to flush and his eyes bulged posing that question.

You sat back in your chair, aware of how flustered Roger had become. “I’ll explain when you’re older, Princess.”

For the rest of date night, tension hung over the poky little table. You could cut it with a knife. You knew Roger was on edge. If you licked your lips, his own would part with a wavering exhale. If you looked him in the eye for a split second too long, a boyish, bashful grin would spread across his features. And if you dared to reach across and touch his hand, you were guaranteed rosy cheeks and a warm grasp that thrummed with nerves. Even though you had been seeing each other for a while, and you had shared more than just kind words and desserts on a regular basis, something was different this time.

Exiting the cosy French restaurant, arm in arm, you sensed the anticipation fluttering away inside him. Each step drew the end of the date nearer and nearer. And part of you might have felt bad for him.

Bad for purposefully riling him up, knowing full well he wouldn’t be going back to your place. Bad that he’d be going home with a raging hard-on and that he’d probably lie awake all night, pining. And bad for his bandmates that he’d be exhausted in the studio the following morning, after all, he could harbour all the spite of a wronged teenager if he didn’t get enough shuteye.

But then, you liked him like this. He did, too.

You weren’t used to this. You couldn’t help yourself.

Turning to each other in the cold and quiet alleyway, you took one last look at him for the night. But you didn’t waste your chance. “Roger?”

Roger looked up from his shoes, those doe eyes of his catching every twinkling light around you.

“I’m sorry for–”

Roger’s hands trailed down your arms as he took a step closer to you, thin grey wisps of breath intertwining in the space between you. “It’s ok.”

“I didn’t mean to get you all fi–”

He closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours with a soft, satisfied sigh. Gentle and reserved, he broke away just as soon as you started craving more of him. “Darling, it’s fine,” he said. His fingers still trailed up and down your arms while he thought. And then came another smile. “You’ve given me lots to think about.”

“Sweet dreams, then?” you shrugged.

“The sweetest,” Roger said with a wink.

Stealing another chaste kiss, you held on to Roger for just a moment longer, breathing him in. Times like this reminded you how you really felt about Roger, underneath all of the risqué remarks and carefree flirting. You sighed, pressing your face against his chest. “Good.”

“Call me when you get home, will you?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

From the minute you and Roger parted, to throwing yourself down on the sofa, your journey home took all of five minutes. But that didn’t matter.

Roger had a tendency to worry – this was London and anything could happen to you. But he insisted. Always.

Timing his own arrival, you brought the phone over to your lap and rang Roger’s number, rattling off the digits from pole position in your brain. Your other hand repeatedly balled up into a fist, as the phone rang. Your thoughts turned to whether you really could take out a potential serial killer.

Probably.

“Hello darling,” Roger purred over the line. He sounded exhausted.

“Hi, Princess.”

“Get home alright?”

“Just about,” you drawled, propping your feet up on the coffee table. “You?”

“Thought about you all the way home.”

“Really? What were you thinking about?”

“You know how you said you’d explain when I’m older? Does an hour older count?” Roger couldn’t contain a giggle while he spoke.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, trying to figure out where to begin. “Well,” you began, tangling your fingertips around the cord, “you can do so much with a belt. You can… use it as a leash and make a guy crawl behind you like a puppy.”

Roger’s breathing hitched as he spoke. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

“And when he won’t fall into line, all you need to do is give his leash a sharp tug. You’d be amazed how pliable boys like you can be when they’re gasping for air.”

“Fuck,” Roger hissed.

“But anyway, it’s getting late, Princess,” you said. “Why don’t… you wear one for me? Next time I see you. And I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”


	2. Baby it's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get ready to show Roger a good time after a long day in the studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ur welcome.
> 
> Also, quarantine's pretty boring. If you have a fic that needs proofing, let me know. My tumblr is 'mypassionfortrash'

“When are you finishing up at the studio, Princess?”

You checked your watch. It had just gone five, and you couldn’t endure the anticipation any longer. You’d be damned if you let it show, though.

Roger’s voice hushed. “For you, Sir, I can finish up now.”

The snags in your stomach unravelled, widening the smile on your face. “Good.”

“I’m just going to nip back to mine and jump in the shower. Give me an hour.”

“Don’t forget a belt.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hanging up the phone, you lingered on the sofa and gave a sharp exhale. All of your thoughts shifted to what you’d wear or how you’d do your makeup. You hadn’t even got as far as what you were going to do with your darling boyfriend when he arrived. You braced yourself and then hauled yourself to your feet, making your way to the bathroom to scrub off the day’s filth ahead of your night of dirt and debauchery.

Half an hour to go. You had showered, dried your hair and finished your makeup. Nothing like the promise of having Roger all to yourself to make you move a little bit faster. Perched on the edge of your bed, you opened your bedside drawer. The top one. The one stuffed with attire to wear on nights like these. Things that made Roger’s pretty face blush and his heart race.

You reached into the drawer and hunted around until you plucked something out. He loved anything that left very little to the imagination, and this was perfect.

A delicate mesh bralette dangled from your fingers. You eyed it up and wondered what could go with it. What could possibly turn him into putty in your hands? Your hand delved into the drawer again.

Leather knickers you could floss with... A leather garter belt... Stockings. You couldn’t forget those.

You slipped into your scant attire for the evening and assessed your reflection in the mirror, turning around for a better view. He’d love this. But something was missing.

Shoes.

Usually, heels weren’t your thing. Were they anyone’s thing? They were hard to walk in, with a tendency to pinch. But they’d elevate you to just about Roger’s eye level. And that was precisely what you needed.

Stepping into a pair of too-high high heels, your outfit was complete. Running your hands down your figure, you felt completely in control and ready to show Roger a good time. Now, all you had to do was figure out how to do just that.

Below your lingerie drawer was an even more toe-curling collection of accoutrements. Everything from crops to collars, butt plugs to ball gags. Everything in between. In every colour. You opened it and kneeled in front of it to get a better view of its contents. The choice was varied. But you really didn’t need much. You and Roger had talked about trying this for a while, and tonight, you hoped, would finally be that night. You decided to leave it in the drawer for now.

The belt that Roger would be wearing was everything you needed to get things started.

Then, three heavy knocks rattled through your flat.

Time had slipped away from you, and now you were fresh out of it. Anticipation curled in your stomach as you clambered to your feet and flung on your black silk robe. Tottering towards the door on jelly legs, you attempted to bolster yourself for the night ahead. You knew – sort of – what awaited Roger, but he had no idea; that thrilled you.

You hesitated. Your hand grasping the handle. Gazing out at Roger’s figure behind the frosted glass. He seemed to sway from foot to foot to keep warm. With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“Hi darling,” Roger beamed, looking you up and down. His voice faltered and his cheeks reddened. “You look… wow…” He moved to come inside, helpless to restrain his eagerness.

But, with your hand pressed flat against his chest, you stopped him. “Hi, Princess.”

“Am I not allowed in?” he chuckled.

Ducking your head into the empty street, you looked to your left, and then your right. Then you surreptitiously traced your fingertips down Roger’s chest. Then his stomach. They came to rest on his belt. “Good boy,” you whispered underneath a devilish grin. Unfastening the buckle and slipping the leather strap from his jeans, you turned it in your hand. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

Roger bit his lip and smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re good at following orders, aren’t you, Princess?” you whispered, moving closer to him. Your hand moved to the back of Roger’s head and curled a long tuft of hair around your fingers. “Aren’t you?” you prompted, giving it a tug that made Roger whine.

“Yes,” Roger yelped, closing his eyes, “yes Sir.”

You laughed. “And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” you purred, stepping backwards.

Roger was about to follow suit for the second time. But you halted him again.

“You’ll do as I tell you, Princess. It’s not that hard.”

Roger’s mouth dropped open as he nodded. He seemed to understand, lingering at the threshold after your scolding.

You held out your hand, and Roger was about to take it – before you spoke. “Take everything off and hand them over,” you instructed.

He didn’t miss a beat. Roger’s hands shook and fumbled as he unfastened the buttons on his grey linen shirt. Despite spring being well on its way, the crisp breeze sent shivers tearing through him; he needed to make this quick, but his hands just couldn’t cooperate quick enough. He shrugged it off, handing it to you, before moving to unbutton his jeans.

“Need a hand there?”

“Nope. No Sir. Thank you,” he flustered, tugging them down. He folded them in half and handed those to you, too. Then he stood up straight, clad in just his underwear and visibly shivering.

“I said everything, Princess.”

All the colour drained from Roger’s face as he glanced around him, checking for passers-by. Making sure no one would see.

“Stop wasting time.”

Roger inhaled with a subtle smirk on his lips. He looped his thumbs underneath the waistband of his underwear and shuffled out of them, leaving him cold, exposed and visibly excited despite the low temperature. Right on your doorstep.

“Good boy,” you praised, taking his plain white briefs from him. You placed Roger’s clothes on the cabinet beside the door and kept the belt, freeing up your grasp for something more important. You reached for him and ran your fingers through his hair, reinforcing the praise you had just given him. He keened into your touch like an eager puppy. “Now, down on your knees, Princess,” you said, pushing him lower. “That’s it.”

Roger looked up from the ground with sparkling, needy eyes as he waited for your next move. They only grew you snaked his belt around his neck in a loop.

“Now you really look like a good boy,” you grinned. Turning on your heel, you led Roger inside on all fours by the tail of his belt. “You can come in now, Princess. I’ve got something exciting lined up for you.”


End file.
